


A Fortnight In The Hells Of Hamburg

by TokyoDAZE



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, F/M, Gang Violence, Hamburg Era, Kidnapping, Ransom, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6753337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokyoDAZE/pseuds/TokyoDAZE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stuart's darling Astrid gets kidnapped by the most dangerous gang in all of Europe, it's gonna take the Beatles and crew to stick their heads together and find a way to rescue her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry. I'm no good at writing these kinds of stories, but I want to try.

From a makeshift shelter in a hollow alley next to an evicted club, a little girl eagerly awaited a familiar patter of gentle footsteps from down the street. The early-spring evening gently swayed her scraggly, short black hair, and she stifled a shiver--cold edges were natural for her, an orphan without a home, but Germany always possessed a unique chill, regardless of the season or the weather.

  
Soon, she heard it--right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot--her ears pricked, and she squinted past the morning mist. A silhouette formed in the blur, pacing swiftly down the barren street, where it was always emptiest just before all the drunkards and whores would pour out onto the pavement when the sun was asleep. Short blonde hair, deep blue eyes, small hands bearing a camera and covered basket, it was her. Astrid Kirchherr.

  
“Mutti…” The little girl called out softly. Astrid slowed once she reached the alley, stopping to greet her.

  
“Hello, Mira.” Astrid smiled gently. “Are you being alright?”

  
“I am.” Mira grinned. “Nobody can hurt me when you are taking care of me.”

  
Astrid chuckled softly and set the basket down, speaking in her adorable broken English. “I picked this for you. Is warm still…”

  
The little girl lit up underneath her head of black hair. “Really? Danke, mutti. Fish and chips?”

  
“Yeah,” She nodded. “I got you a little cake this time also.”

  
“Yay!” Mira laughed, standing up and hugging Astrid. “You’re the best.”

  
“Thank you, my little maus.”

  
The little girl pulled away and sat down again. “My birthday is almost here, mutti.”

  
“It is?”

  
“Yeah. In two weeks, on April 10th. I’m going to be 13 years old.”

  
“Oh. I’ll sure give you a special thing in that day.” Astrid promised.

  
“Will you take me to meet them?”

  
“Meet them?”

  
“Stuart and John and George and all those other people you talk about.” Mira pulled her knees to her chest and hugged her legs. “You promised me you’d let me see them one day.”

  
“I did, didn’t I? Alright. In your birthday, I will take you meet them. I think Stuart will love to see your sketchbook.”

  
“You think so?”

  
“I know so. He loves art.” Astrid smiled lovingly before glancing around in caution. “The clubs are open soon. I go now, not want to trapped at here. Goodbye, my little maus. Be good. I love you.”

  
“Bye-bye, mutti.” Mira slowly pulled the basket closer, reaching in to grab the morsels Astrid left her with. She chewed happily, watching the motherly figure disappear into the fog. She stifled a shiver.


	2. The Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.

Stuart exhaled calmly, relaxing his arm so the brush trapped in the curl of his palm would rest at an angle against the canvas. He considered his options: flicking his wrist would create an acute, abrasive scrape, while moving his arm to the side would leave a smooth, shaky mark. This is what he had to think about all the time, as a renewed artist. Most else he was forced to forget.

  
The creak of an opening door brought his attention away before he could make a choice. He remembered something, and hastily set down his brush before dashing down the attic stairs towards the terrace where the person had just entered. “Astrid!”

  
“I’m back from worked.” She smiled, setting down her camera on the kitchen table.

  
“Welcome back, love.” He moved closer, pressing a kiss against her pale cheek. “How are you?”

  
“I’m good,” Astrid responded sweetly. “It’s cold outside. I sorry to anybody which there still now. It do not feel good.”

  
“Is that so?” Stuart mused. “Come up into the attic. I must show you my latest piece.” Gently, he took her small hand in his small hand and led her upstairs where he was before.

  
“It’s beautiful… like the all other ones. I love everything your makes.”

  
“Thank you, Astrid.” A smile emerged from the boy’s freckled face. “You are so kind to me.” Astrid giggled in a small voice, leaning on his shoulder and running her slender fingers through his dark, combed-down hair. Stuart pulled her in front of him, embracing her and kissing her. Simply, it was perfect. They both loved moments like these, forgetting of the remaining winter chills in the warmth of their love.

  
Suddenly, the girl pulled away and glanced around cautiously. “You hear that…?”

  
Stuart followed her gaze, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

  
“Just I heard a noise. Someone coming on the stairs.”

  
“But we’re alone… right?” He turned around to face the stairs. “You locked the door?”

  
“I did, I did, Stu.” Astrid looked up at him, worried. “Mummy don’t come back for two week. She in working Italy.”

  
“I know…” His voice dropped to a whisper, and his entire body tensed. Instinctively, he motioned Astrid behind him, even though he was barely strong enough to protect himself. “Maybe it’s just the creaking stairs…” He tried to assure her. “Those panels are getting old, after all.” She could only nod in hesitant agreement. Several seconds pass.

  
_“Get her!”_ Or, as they would forever know it, the all-clear signal for all hell to break loose.

  
The sudden shout startles the couple to their knees as several armed teddy boys barged into the attic and began to charge towards them. Astrid let out a yelp and hid behind Stuart, who backed away towards the window, fiercely holding his lover’s hands in his own. “Stay away!” He growled. “What are you doing here?!”

  
Naturally, he wasn’t given an answer. The teds came close and tore him away from Astrid, leaving the delicate photographer with no defense. They closed in on her, and as he was being held back by a pair of the teds, Stuart could see them grabbing her arms and her legs and swiftly tying her wrists together and her ankles together with rope. She was looking intently at him with fear flooding her eyes as she was overpowered by the intruders. “S-stu! Help me! Please help me!”

  
“Let her go!” Stuart snarled, trying to wrench free of the teds’ grip. “Fuckin’ let her go! What do you guys want?!” His small body was quickly thrown against the wall, knocking over two of his paintings. Dizzy and enraged, he staggered to his feet and sprinted towards Astrid. “Get away from her!” He managed to run close enough for the tips of his fingers to scrape her arm before he was knocked to the ground and the world spun above him, sending him into a short, stunned state.

  
“How much do you think this one will fetch?” One of the teddy boys stepped forward and examined the captured Astrid the way a predator observes its prey before ruthlessly devouring it.

  
“She’s a pretty bird, isn’t she?” Another replied gruffly. “One of the sexiest I’ve seen throughout all my miserable days. Probably worth at least several hundred marks, if not considered priceless. But this one might be worth keeping for ourselves. Look at that beautiful form…”

  
“Let me go!” Astrid whimpered, her eyes beginning to well up with tears. “Please don’t hurt me!”

  
“Oh look, fellas,” A third ted jeered. “She’s _crying_. Now isn’t that cute? I wonder if she does that in bed, too. How pretty would it look if we could completely _rape_ those cute lips with tears streaming down her face… yeah. Which one of us lucky guys gets to find out?” Met with dry laughter.

  
“Nobody is allowed to talk about _my_ Astrid like that.” Stuart, now on his feet once more, hissed coldly at the intruders. Blood trickled from a new split in his lip. “I don’t care what you say. You won’t have her.”

  
“Astrid, huh? So that’s her name.” The first ted snorted in amusement. “And this is her miserable excuse for a boyfriend. Stu, is it? Only looks about 170 centimeters tall… that’s pathetic. Nice to meet you, but we’ve gotta scram. I doubt you’ll ever see your precious Astrid again, unless ya got a stash of notes hidden in that huge scarf of yours. It’s been a pleasure.”

  
“W-wait, you can’t do this!” Stuart raised his voice, running towards Astrid again. “Don’t hurt her! Give her back!” A ted quickly pulled him back as he screamed and begged for his darling’s freedom, and as he sputtered curses and pleas and threats, the ted slammed him into the ground where his mind instantly crashed to black.


	3. The Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuart's been beat, and Astrid gone. What will the Beatles do now?

“Danke minna.” John spoke through the microphone to the blurry crowd below him after finishing their last song for the night. “We wish the best for all, and to the whores a good next fuck. Goodnight, you _krauts_!”

  
Naturally, he wasn’t addressing everyone who just so happened to be in the club then. Even though he was blind as a bat, he knew Klaus and Jürgen were seated quietly in the corner, not partaking at all in the sins and blasphemies that were happening between them and the stage. They were truly men of the good crowd, one could say. John chuckled as he descended from the platform and headed towards the back.

  
“I can’t believe our damn bassist wasn’t arsed enough t’ show the fuck up,” Paul hissed after opening a bottle and taking a huge chug. “Not that I care, he makes us sound awful anyways. But he could at least show a bit more consistency!”

  
“I dunno, mate. Maybe Astrid’s finally gotten to the poor soul. She’s given him a reason to live.” John exhaled carelessly. “He told me he wants to start painting again, even if only a little. It’s because of her, eh? Artsy people. Can’t blame ‘im.”

  
“I don’t give a shit.” Paul turned to hide the envy blazing in his eyes. “After this bottle, we’re headin’ over to her place to give ‘im a piece of my mind. He is not doing this again. You say he looks good with us, but he can’t look if he’s not even here!”

  
“Fine, fine, whatever.” The guitarist casually took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. “If it’ll get you to calm yer tits, ‘m all for it.”

  
“Say what ye want, you two.” George coughed, setting down his guitar. “I think it’s strange. Stu does spend time away from us, but only f’r rehearsals. But ‘e does always show up to the actual gigs. This is the first time. He doesn’t skip us that often.”

  
“So?” Pete snapped, speaking at last. “We oughtta do something before he starts.” George flinched, not saying anything more.

  
“Hello, Beatles!” Jürgen yelled as he entered the backstage with Klaus behind him.

  
“Jürgen… Klaus…” George grinned with delight and stepped forward to greet his two friends. “Guten tag…”

  
“Oi, you two!” Paul growled from the other side. “We’re about going to find Stu at Astrid’s place. You mind comin’ with us?”

  
“Er, no. We don’t mind.” Klaus tilted his head.

  
“I’ll stay ‘ere and hold down the fort.” Pete announced dryly. “I don’t go to Astrid’s very often.”

  
“Damn, we’re going now? I hoped maybe later…” John sighed roughly. “I was hopin’ to find an easy skirt while I’m still heavy on these drugs. But nevermind. After all, it’s obvious that,” His lips curled into a smug grin. “Princess Paulie oughtta get everything he wants, right?”

  
“Shove off, John.” Paul slammed the empty bottle down onto a stand. “You’re pissed Stu didn’t show up, too. I know it.”

  
“Yer’ right. I am.” John’s smile vanished, and he loosened his grip on his cigarette and let it fall to the ground. “Let’s go.”

 

 

“This place is a bit more spooky than I remember. I hope they’re alright.” George mumbled as they approached the house.

  
“Pro’ly ‘cos it’s emptier now. Astrid’s mum is outta town.” John shrugged.

  
“The door… handle.” Klaus slowly pointed to the handle of the door. “Is broked.”

  
“Is it? I can’t see from here…”

  
“John… ye should’ve brought yer bleedin’ glasses.”

  
“He’s right.” George hopped up the front steps and examined the handle. “The lock looks like it's been jammed or somethin’. This entire little section here has been smashed in.”

  
“It was perfectly fine when we were here last night.” John frowned. “Maybe their house got robbed?”

  
“It would not is nonsense.” Jürgen thought out loud. “Astrid’s family have lot money.”

  
“So where is Astrid?” Paul murmured. “And Stu?”

  
Hesitantly, the group pushed the door open and crept inside. It was dark, with only moonlight to illuminate the barren rooms. Still, masses of damage were visible. Chairs and tables had been overturned and displaced. Many of Astrid’s photographs that were hanging on the wall before had been ruthlessly torn apart and scattered across the room. Many of the walls had cracks in them that weren’t there before, as if things had been smashed into them. It was a potential scene from a horror movie.

  
“What the fuck…?” John whispered, starting to put his bodyweight on his toes. “What happened?”

  
“Klaus… I’m scared…” George whined and clutched the sleeve of the older boy. “Somethin’ bad probably happened to Astrid and Stu… that’s why they weren’t there at the gig! What if they got kidnapped or even killed but we couldn’t save them because we were busy playing music?!”

  
“Is okay, Georgie… That would not perhaps happen.” Klaus assured him, though his voice was rather grave at heart.

  
“Yeah, George, don’t scare us like that. Bloody kid.” Paul chuckled halfheartedly, and everyone tried to shrug it off. However, as they ascended the staircase leading to the attic, it was in silent agreement to fear the worst.

  
The attic was in no better condition than the terrace or kitchen, and it’s best to leave it at that. The group looked around in horror.

  
“Whoever was here slashed all of Stu’s new paintings and broke all his nice new paintbrushes and spilled all his paint bottles.” John snarled. “God, they are so gonna be---” A yelp interrupted his threat.

  
“Over there, in the corner!” Shaking, George pointed to a small silhouette huddled in the side of the room. His grip on Klaus’ sleeve tightened.

  
“Is that… a body?” Jürgen shrunk back in horror.

  
“No… no. I think it’s breathing.” Paul shuddered, stepping closer. “It… It’s Stu… oh God…”

  
“... What?” John followed him, examining the features of the figure: combed-down hair, small form, lined eyebrows, acute cheekbones---it was indeed Stu. “He’s not dead, is he?”

  
Stuart was lying face-up with his head twisted at an awkward, perhaps unnatural angle. His arms were outstretched, hands curled into loose fists. He had a black eye and dark blood trickled from a split in his bottom lip, and weren’t it for the soft rising and falling of his chest, one would think he was dead.

  
“Wake him,” Klaus suggested quietly. John nodded and began to gently shake the body. After several seconds pass with bated breaths, a soft cough broke from Stuart, and his eyes fluttered open.

  
“Thank the Lord!” George exhaled deeply. “Stu, we thought you were dead!”

  
“Ugh… my… my head hurts…” Trying to escape his delirious state, the artist slowly sat up and shook his head. “Ow, ow, no, that makes it worse. Uhm… what time is it?”

  
“Two in the morning.” John replied. “Why?”

  
“Oh mein Gott…” Stuart whispered.

  
“What’s wrong, Stu?” Paul frowned. “Where’s Astrid…?”

  
“I’ve been knocked out for at least 8 hours…” He held his violently trembling hands to his forehead, attempting to regain his senses. “Astrid… Astrid? Oh no…” He looked up at John, a horrible memory flickering in his eyes. “Those damn teds… No no no…!”

  
“Stu, are you okay? Who teds?” Jürgen asked, his voice rising with concern.

  
“A bunch of teddy boys broke into the house. They beat me up ‘till I passed out, and also they… they took her! They were beating me up, and all the while they talked about what horrible things they were gonna do to her, I… I can’t handle it… they’re gonna rape her and even maybe sell her off… no… my poor little Astrid… she… she… she’s too precious! She doesn’t deserve this!” Stuart broke off into a fit of sobs.

  
“Really? Are you serious?” John’s face was pale. He pulled Stu closer and looked him intently in the eye.

  
“We have to go rescue her, John…” The boy lamented, a tear running down his cheek. “I don’t know how, but I won’t let those savages keep her away from us… please help!”

  
“This perhaps is the start.” Klaus picked up a crumpled sheet of paper with a note typed in black ink on it from the windowsill. “George, can you read this English?”

  
“Yeah…” George took the letter from Klaus’ hand and quickly read it over. His eyes widened. “It’s a note from the kidnappers: _If you want to see your beloved Astrid ever again, meet us at the abandoned pub at the very north end of the Reeperbahn tomorrow night at a half-hour before midnight. If you do not show up, you can expect her to be ours alone, and you will never get her back. Take the easy route._ Do you think this is a ransom note?”

  
“We’ll probably learn more at this at this little arrangement,” John snarled, punching his fist into the opposite palm. “But if they think they can get away with taking Astrid like this, they’ve got another thing coming.”

  
“No, John, we can’t fight them! They’re not like you!” Stuart stumbled as he climbed to his feet, sounding frightened. “They’ve got guns and knives. They don’t fight fair, I swear. We’ll find another way, but none of us have to get hurt that much!”

  
“Okay, then, _Stukie_ , you got a better plan?” John gritted his teeth.

  
“First... sniff.. stop calling me that.” The artist seemed to retaliate at the mention of his infamous pet name. “This is really serious! We’ll go to the meeting and find out what they want, and based on that, we’ll start working out a plan. If we’re lucky, a little miracle might be on our side…”

  
“That’s stupid.” The guitarist snorted.

  
“I hate to say it, but I’m with Stu on this one.” Paul called out.

  
“Seriously? That’s a first.”

  
“It definitely beats trying to fight these guys and end up being stabbed to death.” He shrugged. “If we’re gonna save Astrid, let’s do it as painlessly as possible.”

  
“Okay, then. George?”

  
“Stu’s plan.”

  
“We don’t understand much of…” Klaus murmured. “But it sounding smart, so we agree too.”

  
“Stu’s plan it is, then.” John turned to face the window. “Just you wait, you teddy bastards. You won’t get away with this!”

  
“It’s settled.” Stuart wiped a tear from his face, and his voice was a low, cold growl. “ _Operation: Rescue Astrid_ is now underway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is weird. Stuart is written unnaturally.


	4. The Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible... haha... i don't want Astrid~dearest to suffer, so I'm being nicer than I should be... but I'll try... *incoherent sobbing*

The ground below her was cold and hard, and it pressed against her face: that was the first feeling.

  
The second was the stagnant air against her back. She shuddered, feeling cold and uncomfortably exposed.

  
The third was the sting of an icy, tight iron collar binding her neck and making it difficult to breath. It was connected to a chain that didn’t seem to be linked to anything else. Perhaps it was some morbid kind of leash.

  
The fourth was a pang of hunger and a dry throat: she had probably been unconscious long enough to let those settle in. She had not eaten nor drank in a while, if that were the case.

  
The fifth was the sudden, stomach-knotting sense of pure abandonment and loneliness.

  
“... Hello?” Astrid called out in a meek voice, trying to sit up but finding her hands were tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied together as well, though with a bridge in between, as if she were allowed to have some form of limited movement. She turned on her aching side, looking up and trying to ignore the biting chills.

  
She was in a dark, small room with no windows. An iron door was the only way out, positioned across the room, but it appeared to be locked. In the corner was a mattress, not far from where she was. Other than that, the room seemed to be bare. Cold, sure, but it seemed unusually clean.

  
The memories of her wake began to return to her. Those teddy boys broke into my house. They hurt Stu. They hurt me. How long have I been asleep?

  
“Help…” She cried through heavy, desperate breaths, her voice broken by the collar. “Somebody help me… please…”  
Soon, the door clicked, sliding open to reveal the shadow of one of those savages. A toothy, evil grin was the first thing she saw. “Hello, Astrid. You’re awake.”

  
“Who are you?” She flinched. “What do you want? Let me go, please!”

  
“We’ll see.” The man grabbed the chain and yanked it upwards, forcing Astrid to her feet. “Depends if your special _Stuart_ cares to show up for a little meeting we’ve arranged about now. Come with me, and behave, or we’ll hurt you real bad.”

  
Astrid winced, trying to swallow her misery, pushing it down her parched throat. “He loves me. That your plan… he will be there. You won’t keep me.”

  
“Shut up.” He snapped, bringing up his free hand and slapping her hard on the face. “Pretty birds should only sing when told to.”

  
“I-i’m sorry!” Astrid cried out loud. “I’ll quiet now, I promise! Don’t hurt me!”

  
“Good.” He hissed coldly. “Let’s go.”

 

 

“They said they’d be here, right?” Stuart whispered. “This abandoned club?”

  
The group had travelled to the edge of the Reeperbahn to find the place, standing right before the doors with rusted hinges and smashed windows.

  
“Yeah.” John grumbled. “Let’s go inside.”

  
“If this is a bleedin’ trap, I swear…” Paul bit back a threat and followed the others through the doorframe.

  
“Woah, this place really does look abandoned.” George looked around curiously.

  
“Sorry, Georgie, we’re not 'ere to sightsee. We’re gonna get Astrid back.”

  
“I know, I know. Though I wonder why they wanted t' meet us 'ere and not elsewhere?”

  
“Guys…” Klaus hushed them. “There’s nobody here.”

  
“We could get ambushed.” Stuart shuddered. “Keep alert.”

  
“But we don’t want to do that. We come in peace.” A voice from the shadows startled the group.

  
“Show yourselves!” Jürgen yelled.

  
“ _We come in peace_ my ass!” Stuart shot. “You beat me up!”

  
One by one, the gang emerged from the darkness into visible ground. They slinked in, eventually surrounding the group and blocking the door in.

  
“There’s so many of them…” George sputtered, horrified. He grabbed onto Klaus’ sleeve, cowering behind the older man.

  
“... Where’s Astrid?” Stuart asked coldly.

  
“Oh, she’s here.” A ted with black hair smiled stonely. “Scar, if you would…”

  
“Right here, Bone.” A tall one with a dark scratch down the length of his face stepped forward, pulling a quivering, small figure on a chain with him. Even with her head bowed, the short blonde hair was unmistakable.

  
“Astrid!” The artist began to run forward, but the man called Bone easily shoved him back.

  
“Calm down, runt.” The ted sneered. “You don’’t want another black eye, do you?”

  
“Oi, oi!” Paul raised his voice. “I’m the only one who’s allowed t' beat Stu up. Back the _fuck_ off.”

  
“Sorry, pretty boy. I believe we’ve already kicked you off that throne. Though,” Bone glanced at Stuart. “With a tiny stance like that, I doubt it would be hard for anyone to clobber him. I pity that.”

  
“Fuck off…” Stu hissed, staring intently at Astrid.

  
“S-stu…” The photographer was trembling violently, barely able to keep standing. She raised her head, returning his gaze with teary, red eyes. “Help me…” Her cheek was dark, as if she had been hit: it ignited an emotion in him.

  
“What did you do to her?!” Stuart snarled, glaring at Scar.

  
“Oh, it’s been almost a good 24 hours, and she hasn’t been fed at all in that time frame, so of course she doesn’t look too good. Also, it was a bit of a hassle dragging her cute ass all the way over here. But we hit her a few times, and she was a bit more compliant then.” Scar replied smugly. “Oh, don’t give me that nasty look. It’s nothing compared to what we’ll do to her if you don’t do what we ask.”

  
“... What you’ll do?” Jürgen’s eyes were wide.

  
“Care for a sneak peek?” Bone offered, then turned to Scar, nodding without having waited for an answer. The man, on cue, pressed Astrid face-first against the cold wall, inducing a small yelp, then unsheathed a glinting knife, pointing the tip at her.

  
“No… no, _don’t_!” Klaus took a step forward, but he was too late. Scar swiftly drove the blade deep into the side of Astrid’s abdomen, drawing from her blood and a heart-shattering shriek. Crimson droplets rained beside her, pooling at the floor beneath her feet.

  
“Astrid!’ Stuart screamed, trying to rush towards her, only to be pulled back by Bone. Scar grinned wickedly and pulled the knife back, letting go of Astrid. She slunk to the floor, writhing helplessly in pain as tears streamed down her face.

  
“You savages!” Stuart fought forward, blind fury raging in his eyes. “You scourges! You bloodthirsty rogues! How could you?! She doesn’t deserve this!” The same sort of commotion rose in the group of mixed Exies and Beatles, and the gang drove them back so that Astrid couldnt be reached.

  
“What're yer demands?!” George cried.

  
“There’s the question we were waiting for.” Scar smiled, reaching out to pet George, who flinched and hid behind Klaus again upon contact. “Good boy. We’ll tell.” He turned to Stuart. “In the time between now and last night, we decided to play the ransom game: give us no less than 500 pounds within two weeks, and you can have your precious Astrid back and we’ll get out of your way. If not,” He narrowed his eyes. “Forget it. She’s ours, and good as dead to you.”

  
“Who said you got to decide?” John hissed.

  
“We could always just kill her right here and now if you want to get it over with!” Bone clasped his hands together innocently, shoving the dismayed Stuart back towards his friends.

  
“No… don’t!” Jürgen spoke up.

  
“B-but…” George stammered out of fear. “We’re all, like, working or middle class… n-nobody's got that kind of money!”

  
“Then that’s just too bad, isn’t it?” The man jeered coldly.

  
“E-every… one…” Astrid looked up weakly; blood was beginning to trickle from the corner of her mouth. “I’m sorry to making you all come here to me. Just go--don’t worrying for me. I will alright…”

  
“Astrid… don’t say that.” Stuart replied quietly. “We will save you, no matter what it takes.”

  
“How cute.” Scar purred. “Anyway, sorry to cut your little love story short, but we think you’ve got all the information you need for now. When you’ve got the dough, leave a scarf in the window of this place and we’ll be here to collect it and return your pretty bitch the following night. We’ll be out of this dump of a city in two weeks, and we’re definitely taking her with us if you don’t show up by then... that is, if she's not dead, so hurry.”

  
“Also,” Bone threatened. “Don’t even bother calling the cops. We will know if you try, and if you do, we’ll kill her on the spot. Don’t take that risk.”

  
“Come on, everyone.” Paul ushered everyone away. “We should leave 'fore they make any more threats. We’ll figure something out.” Reluctantly, the group shuffled towards the door one by one. The men blocking the exit silently moved out of their way to let them leave.

  
Stuart was the last one to go, glancing behind his back longingly at Astrid. “I’ll come back for you. I love you forever, and nobody can ever change that.” Then he, too, was gone.

 

**14 days left**

 

“I can’t believe it.” John sputtered, white-faced. “The absolute nerve they must have.”

  
“Maybe it’s not nerve.” George was absolutely stunned. “It’s the lack 'f a heart altogether.”

  
“Who cares what it is? We’ve gotta get Astrid back!” Paul gritted his teeth.

  
This was the sort of disorganized conversation that took place once outside the abandoned building. Night and fog had blanketed the city, and the street was empty due to everything being closed on Sunday nights, but their unaimed threats and morbid suggestions cut through the scenery without consideration.

  
“Should just give to them money?” Klaus asked.

  
“No. If we give them the money, it’ll mean they’ve won!” Stuart exclaimed. “Besides, it’s like what George said: none of us have that kind of money.”

  
“What they said about the police also could’ve been an empty threat.” John growled. “We could just call them--those bastards were probably just trying to scare us.”

  
“We don’t know that f'r sure!” George shook his head in response. “We can’t tell, but if they do, they'll kill Astrid! Besides, it’s not like we've got a good relationship with the cops in this city.”

  
“Could call Astrid’s mother?” Jürgen suggested.

  
“Are ye kiddin'?” Paul bit. “She’d probably get stroke if she finds out what 'appened t' 'er daughter. If she survives that, then she’ll definitely get th' police involved, whether we like it or not. In fact, we can’t let a lot of other people know about this--they’d probably call th' police, too.”

  
“This is awful.” Stuart groaned, rubbing the split on his lip. “How will we ever save Astrid?”

  
“Um… Excuse me, mister teddy and exi boys…” A small voice called out and interrupted to commotion. Everyone stopped and glanced around to search for the source of the voice.

  
“... I’m over here.” The origin was a short head of scruffy black hair peeking at the group from a corner that led into an alley.

  
“Oh…” George tilted his head. “It’s a little girl.”

  
“Yeah.” The child stepped out from behind the corner and looked up at the group. “Listen… I’m sorry to bother you. I can’t hear what you’re talking about from here, but… it sounds important, and I don’t want to disrupt that. I just want to ask… if you’ve seen someone, so... please don't beat me up.”

  
“... We wouldn't do that. Yer' just a kid. Go on.” John approved her gruffly.

  
“Really? Terimah kasi, minna.” The girl shyly bowed her head, clutching a small book in her hands. “I am an orphan, and I don’t have a home right now. I live right here in a small shelter in this alley. But every day except on Tuesdays, a lady with short blonde hair visits me before and after she goes to work, and she gives me some food because I don’t have any money to feed myself with. On Mondays, she gives me a few coins so I can buy food myself the next day when she doesn’t go to work. She takes care of me, and brushes my hair if she has time to. If she has spare money, she gets me new clothes. I am an orphan, yes, but she is my mutti, an angel amongst sinners on the earth. Do you know any lady like this?”

  
“I 'ave never 'eard any child yer age be able to use vocabulary like that.” George commented.

  
Stuart ignored the young guitarist, staring intently at the girl. “Yes… Yes, we do! Her name… it’s Astrid, isn’t it?”

  
The little girl seemed to glow at his recognition. “You know my mutti! I am worried because she didn’t show up today, even though it was a Sunday and not a Tuesday. She normally lets me know in advance when she’ll be gone out of schedule, and it’s not like her to get sick. She is very reliable that way. Anybody can trust her. So…” Her dark chocolate eyes were intense as she asked the question. “Do you know what happened to my mutti?”


	5. The Forcing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Astrid.
> 
> (This chapter contains rape/abuse. You have been warned.)

“C’mon, pretty bird,” Scar sneered and yanked on the chain. “It’s over for now. You’re coming back with us."

  
“Please, sir…” Astrid flinched, speaking through bloodied, quivering lips and cracking voice. “I-I’m hurting… hurt… very much… I can’t walk…”

  
“Stop complaining.” One of the unnamed teds turned around, glaring at her. “Do what we say, or we’ll hurt you again. Do you want that, bitch?”

  
“No… I don’t.” She gave in, struggling to get to her feet. Scar pulled her upwards with the chain, and she staggered. “This chain… it hurts, too. I’m sorry, I can’t… breath much… May you take it…?”

  
“Shut up!” He snarled, slapping her painfully hard. “If there’s anything your mouth should be used for, it’s not talking!”

  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Astrid choked, trying to ignore the stinging sensation. “I’ll do anything! just don’t hurt me, please! I beg, I beg!”

  
“You noisy thing. Save your screams for when we fuck you.” Scar hissed.

  
“You know, we don’t need her conscious anymore, now that those rats are gone.” Bone stepped forward. “Knock her out, It’ll be easier to get her back to base.”

  
“No… don’t, please…” The photographer sobbed, the taste of blood and tears bitterly heavy in her dry mouth. “I’ll follow, I promise…”

  
“No thanks, love.” Bone smiled sweetly at her. “Fang, you’ve got chloroform?”

  
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” A light brown-haired teddy boy padded toward Astrid, a rag in his right hand. “Hold still, pretty bird.”

  
“No, I… I don’t… You don’t… do this, please…” Astrid backed away, pleading weakly. Scar pulled her back and restrained her.

  
“Don’t worry about it.” Fang smirked. “Sleep well.” He forced the rag against her face, muffling her whines and sobs until she slumped to the floor without wake.

 

 

“You’ve had a run in with _them_?!” The girl gasped. The group had taken her back to the backstage of the club they played at, deeming Astrid’s house uninhabitable for the time being. Stuart had explained to her what had happened before she met them.

  
“ _Them_?” John frowned.

  
“How do you not know?!” She jumped forward, staring at the guitarist in disbelief. “They’re the biggest, baddest gang in all of Europe! The Lunaciders is their name--it literally means killers of the moon. Personally, I think they’re more like Luna _tics_ than anything else. But they’re still dangerous! They travel around the country, doing nasty things to innocent people like they did to mutti! They’ve killed so many people. I think even the _police_ don’t dare to stop them.”

  
“That’s awful.” Klaus murmured sadly. “We’ll never have Astrid back.”

  
“No, we will.” Paul flared his nostrils. “This girl has information we could probably use to save her! Thank you… uhm… what _is_ your name?”

  
“I’m Mira.” The girl bowed her head.

  
“Oh, then. Mira. That’s a lovely name.” Paul half-smiled at her in the fatherly way he did with children back in Liverpool. “How exactly does a little orphan girl end up in this dangerous city? There are lots of bad people here. You could get hurt.”

  
“I wondered so, too. I’ve been in Germany for as long as I remember, but I think I’m Japanese or Chinese. I’m afraid to leave, because I don’t have an ID or passport or anything and the officials at the border might catch me. I used to travel around the country, but one night I stayed here, and mutti found me, and kept looking after me ever since. She’s the only reason I stay. I’ll never find anyone as kind as her if I leave.”

  
 _This is another reason we need to rescue Astrid._ Stuart thought grimly to herself. _This girl has a bond with her, too. She’s so important. God, please help us!_

  
“I want to help save mutti.” Mira spoke. “I know I’m just a little kid, but they’d notice me less if I were to follow them. They know you, but I’m not a part of this yet… I can spy. I want to help.”

  
“But… it’s so dangerous…” George objected softly. “What if you get hurt?”

  
“I won’t get hurt.” She smiled. “Mutti takes care of me. I know we can save her. What are we if we don’t try?”

  
“... Okay.” John sighed. “We could use any help that you’ve got.”

  
“Terimah kasi!” Mira clapped. “I promise I won’t let you down. Those lunatics will never mess with us again!”

 

 

Astrid woke up slowly. She felt sickeningly dizzy, and there was a throbbing ache in her side as well as a heavier pang of thirst and hunger that made her even more dazed. She groaned, looking up and seeing she was in the same small room as before the confrontation between the Beatles, her friends, and the gang members; but she was on top of the mattress this time instead of the floor. The new angle let her see a small cave in the wall furthest from the door that had a toilet and a cracked mirror--perhaps the placement was to allow for some sort of privacy, and she was too sick to think anything past that. She was tied up still, but her hands were bound in front of her now, and a cold edge nipped her skin--she had been stripped of all her clothes.

  
“U-um… Hello?” She called quietly. “Anyone is there, please? N-nh…” She was rather uncomfortable being naked and exposed somewhere she could never call home.

  
Eventually, the door clicked and creaked open, and a gang member that wore a tooth-adorned choker stepped into the room. “Good evening, Astrid.”

  
“... Who are you?” She squirmed, feeling all the more threatened by his presence. “What is you want?”

  
“My name is Jag.” He crept closer and kneeled in front of her, closely examining her body. She winced, wishing his burning gaze would lift from her. “I was lucky enough to be the first one to get to know you better.” His hand outstretched, he began to run his palm over her shoulder and curves, and she flinched, realizing what he meant.

  
“I don’t want that.” Astrid whined quietly. “I want to be with Stu.”

  
“Don’t say his name, bitch.” He snarled. “Do you really think that runt or any of his teddy-wannabe crew can save you?”  
“I do.” She retorted. Her voice was weak but her answer was strengthened that way. Jag gritted his teeth, and it seemed he was about to bark at her response. Astrid braced herself, but the clenched expression soon melted into a smug smirk.

  
“Oh, I get it.” He shuffled closer, his face not far from hers now. “You say nasty nothings like that so I’ll fuck you _harder_.”

  
“That’s not true!” Astrid objected, sincerely meaning it. Her cracking pitch raised in a panicked pattern as she slowly realized what he was going to do to her, and she struggled harder, but the ropes refused to give. Jag shifted the girl onto her back, facing upwards, and heaved himself above her.

  
“Here’s a deal.” His eyes were dark chips of flint, gleaming in the darkness. “You haven’t eaten or drank for a good entire day. If you do what I tell you to, I’ll tell the others to bring you food and water soon. Does that sound fair? Though,” He laughed dryly. “I’m not really giving you a choice.”

  
Internally, Astrid was recoiling in horror and disgust at his message. _If you don’t let me rape you, break you, violate you, and destroy your free will, I won’t give you access to basic life necessities._ It felt so wrong, and she wasn’t used to being treated so unfairly. Stu would never do this. “Go away from me!” She crossed her legs and pulled her bound hands to her chest, knowing she couldn’t protect herself from this. “Please… I don’t want...”

  
Jag rolled his eyes and immediately reached down with his right hand to wrench her legs apart and begin rubbing her clit. Astrid gasped, horrified, and with that sensation, she panicked even more. The teddy boy seemed to revel in this, a spark of victor in his cold eyes, and moved his hand further.

  
“Stop it! Stop it, please! I beg!” The photographer was nearly screaming now, her vision beginning to blur with tears. “I don’t want this! I don’t! Let me go! Bitte! Aaa--”

  
The rest of the experience spiraled into a hazy nightmare to her. She remembered that man leaning in closer, pinning her wrists against the mattress even though she was sobbing, forcing her to take his cock. He forced her to kiss him. He forced her to moan his awful name. He forced her to come over and over and over. Force. Force. _Force_.

  
Astrid hated that. It felt like an eternity before she realized he had at last pulled away from her, gazing at her with those dark-flint eyes filled with lust and smugness. She could feel her heart throbbing in every inch of her damaged body, and she could taste blood.

  
“What a pleasant fucktoy you are.” Jag curled his lip into a wry smirk. “I’m sure once you get this treatment a few more times, you’ll be used to being a slut just for my crew. I’d love to see you being more compliant in the future--probably even _begging_ to be fucked… yeah.”

  
“No…” Astrid panted, broken but still alive inside somewhere. “Stuart will save me. I never will be for you.”

  
“Don’t cover up your despair with false hope, pretty bird.” He sneered at her. “Do you really think that midget or any of his bitchy friends actually have the kind of cash to pay the ransom? Get real. You’re obviously worth far more to us than 500 pounds, anyway.”

  
“Hope is not hurt me.” She flared. “They if cannot save me... I will save me… somehow. I don’t care. You will cannot keep me.” Jag seemed to snap at that--he suddenly clenched his fist and punched her in the abdomen. Astrid yelped, allowing more tears to form, and writhed in pain.

  
“Pretty birds should only sing when told to.” He hissed. “Learn to shut up, and zip it while I get your food and water.” He stood up and brushed himself off, turning around to exit and slamming the door behind him. Astrid was left alone in the darkness, covered in come and sweat and blood and tears, and though she genuinely believed that Stuart would come and rescue her, a seed of despair had been planted in her heart. Did he really have what it took to drag her out of hell?


	6. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mira has joined the gang, and she's ready to take up arms. What now?

It was already late that night, but nobody wanted to sleep on the rescue mission, as they had already begun to discuss ideas whenever they had a break from playing. Pete had been told of the situation, but he was frightened and didn’t want to get heavily involved with the mission. He held back in the corner, trying hard not to bite nervously into his cigarette.

  
Mira, being a child, seemed very exhausted and unused to being awake at the witching hours. It was also obvious that, as a minor, she was not permitted inside the Top Ten, especially at night. She had to be snuck in by Klaus and Jürgen underneath a trenchcoat, praying not to be noticed, though it seemed everyone inside the club was already far too drunk to notice. She seemed terrified by all the people fighting, dancing wildly, the stench of cigarette smoke and the songs of sex from every corner of the building, but she was determined. Stuart could see it in her dark eyes.

  
Meanwhile, Stuart himself was wondering if they had made a good choice in letting her assist them. _She’s just a kid,_ He thought. _She’s probably clumsy and inattentive. If she goes to spy, she’ll probably get caught and make things worse for herself, Astrid, and us. Also, it’s hard to risk the life of someone who’s so young, and we can’t be responsible for her survival as well as Astrid’s. Maybe we should just keep her out of this until it’s over…_ He shook his head. _No. The risk is high, but she’s the closest willing person who could infiltrate their base without being identified. We’ve got to give it a shot. If something bad happens, we’ll deal with it._

  
“Mutti would talk about you sometimes.” Mira murmured out loud when there seemed to be a settlement in the discussion. “All of you.”

  
“Would she?” George raised an eyebrow.

  
Mira nodded. “From what I know, John-of-the-autumn-hair acts like a brute, but he’s very nice and funny if you don’t provoke him. George-of-the-snaggletooth-Scouse is very sweet and funny, too, and he’s the youngest. Very good at guitar. Um, Paul-of-the-doe-honey-eyes is very creative.” She coughed. “From what I understand, you’re not great friends with my mutti. I don’t know a lot about Pete-of-the-backdoor-rhythm. She doesnt talk about him, either, so I don’t suppose he’s any closer. Then there’s Klaus-of-the-shadow-pelted-maus, who I recognize because he has big ears.” She grinned. “I heard you’re an absolutely wonderful artist! After we get my mutti back from hell, I want you to show me, okay?” The man nodded bashfully. “And Jürgen-of-the-thousand-meter-scarf, who is a student photographer, too. I heard you’re going to work in France, soon. Lucky.”

  
“I know. That’s wonderful, ja?” He seemed pleased at her knowledge.

  
Mira turned to Stu. “Oh, and you--I know my mutti always tells the truth. So I know in my heart it’s true when she says you’re the absolute most beautiful, intelligent, creative being to have ever graced the surface of this filthy earth.”

  
“Oh, stop that.” The artist pressed his lips together shyly, flattered. “I think that’s what _she_ is. ’m a rotten thing as is, but I’m nothin’ compared t’ her.”

  
“No, but it’s true,” She insisted while staring intently at Stuart with sparkling eyes. “I have known her for a while even before you guys came here to Hamburg, but I’ve never seen her so happy as when you started being with her. You are unique, and I know that much. She’s never been this vivid. Oh, and--” She outstretched her hand and touched the tip of his nose with her fingertip. “ _Freckles_.” She mewed, amused. “They just go so well with your face.” At that, he gently brushed her off and looked away, his face reddening. “Only _Astrid’s_ ever told me that m’ freckles look nice.”

  
“Really?” Mira frowned. “That’s awful. You deserve more credit than that.” She then stepped down and spun around, humming and mumbling things to herself. “Astrid-mutti is very kind. She has cute hair and cute eyes and she wears the nicest clothes. She likes taking photos of her friends, and she always helps people and says nice things that are just as nice as she is. She is in love with Stuart-vatti, who is creative and smart like her. She protects me from starvation and thirst and other things that homeless orphans have to face. Yes, everyone loves my dearest Astrid-mutti. There has never been anybody else like her, no, not a single person in the whole wide world.”

  
“And that there, m’ friends,” Paul sighed. “Is a few of th’ countless reasons why th’ sooner this mission’s up ‘n rollin’, th’ better. Let’s keep goin’.”

  
Everyone seemed to receive the message, and shuffled back into their tight circle. John told Mira to hide in the corner, so just in case somebody else she didn’t know came in, she could hide easily. As she went and did just that, Stuart’s ears twinged slightly at Mira’s speech. “ _Stuart-vatti?_ ” He murmured quietly to himself so that nobody would hear. It was sudden, but, frankly, it wasn’t hard to imagine himself fathering this girl. He didn’t know much about her yet, but Astrid had already taken her in under her wing, and it wouldn’t be too hard to pull some papers together and adopt her once they were married. And he liked the sound of it. _Stuart-vatti,_ He repeated silently to himself, a smile gently trickling onto his face.

  
 _But of course, none of it will never happen if we never rescue Astrid!_ Reality shot right back through him like a bullet. Stuart felt a pang of grief and anger thinking about what happened. _I should’ve been able to protect her. If I wasn’t so weak, I could’ve prevented any of this from happening._

  
“Hey,” Stuart felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up. It was George, or George-of-the-snaggletooth-Scouse, as Mira had strangely dubbed him, who was staring kindly at him. “Don’t feel bad, okay? Nobody blames you f’r what those Lunatic bastards did t’ Astrid. It’s all them. They were the ones who decided t’ go on ‘n do this. Not you. Okay? D’ ye want me t’ go upstairs ‘n getcha a drink?”

  
“I… thanks, George, but I need t’ think t’night.” Stuart rubbed his forehead, which was beginning to ache. “Just gimme somma th’ pills f’r now. That’ll do.” The younger nodded, reached into his pocket and handed the bassist enough pills to fill a teaspoon. Stuart nodded his gratefulness and swallowed the little prellies without a swig of water. “How’d y’ know what I was thinkin’?"

  
George shrugged. “It was in yer face. Ye looked guilty, ‘n that shit gets me a bit sad, too. It’s sorta like what Paul said earlier. If anyone’s gonna upset you, it’s gonna be us or somebody gets beat up.”

  
“... Alright. Okay.” Stuart shook his head and exhaled deeply. His hand reached up to brush some of the hair from his face--he winced, accidentally touching his black eye. “George… are you scared?”

  
“Scared?” The young guitarist echoed, his vision focusing on empty space. “Well… yeah. Of course. Wouldn’t anyone be? We’re tryin’ t’ save a damsel in distress from a gang of absolute maniacs. Of course I’m scared. Not as scared as I would’ve been when we first came here. Then,” He smiled lightly. “Anything y’ couldn’t tell yer mother about was classified as scary.”

  
The artist smiled. “Yeah. D’ ye reckon we’ll ‘ave t’ tell Astrid’s mother about this?”

  
“Not ‘til we get Astrid back, no!” George stared back, wide-eyed. “I don’t want the lunatics to kill Astrid! We wait, of course.”

  
“I don’t want them to kill her, either.”

  
“Oi, you two,” John beckoned the boys. “Git over ‘ere.”

  
“Didja come up with somethin’?” George asked, scooting closer.

  
“It’ll be hard t’ get anything done if we don’t know much about what we’re dealing with.” Paul shrugged. “We mostly jus’ argued about it until we realized that.”

  
“What will we do?” Jürgen murmured.

  
“Easy.” John’s brown orbs glittered, glancing at the girl in the corner. “We send Mira to spy first, then she’ll tell us about where those guys are keepin’ Astrid!”

  
“It sounds fair, but…” The orphan frowned thoughtfully. “How am I supposed to know who to follow?”

  
“I think there were two of the teds that stood out.” Stuart recalled darkly. “One was called Scar, probably because of this dark crack running down the side of his face. I can’t imagine a casual way to cover it up, so you have a chance there. This other one, I didn’t know his name but he was standing and glaring at me while at the abandoned club was wearing a choker that was studded with sharp teeth.”

  
“Are these bastards even _trying_ to hide?” Paul clenched his teeth. “They’d totally stand out of the police were lookin’ for ‘em!”

  
“They must be proud of their savagery.” George snarled.

  
“So…” Mira mused. “Scar-of-the-face-canyon and Unidentified-of-the-teethy-collar. Got it.”

  
“Another way…” Stuart realized. “Could be to wait by the abandoned club in hiding for them to visit. They probably check every night to see if we left that scarf in the window. So when they come to do that and then leave, just follow them at a distance!”

  
“Oh goodness, I like that plan!” Mira snickered gleefully. “Let me go and do it!”

  
“Okay, we will. But,” The artist held her gaze in a serious manner. “Be very careful. These men are dangerous, and it’s over for you if you get caught. We depend on your success. Astrid depends on your success. Got it?”

  
Mira nodded seriously. “I won’t let you down.”

  
“We’re gonna go onstage soon.” John declared, disgruntled. “We’ll play and hold down the fort here ‘til ya get back.”

  
“Got it.” Mira spun around. “Scarf guy! Maus guy! Come here and help me sneak out!” Klaus and Jürgen stood up, nodding. Klaus handed her the trenchcoat, which she pulled over herself. She casted a determined glance at Stuart before leaving.  
“I’m off, then!” She smiled. “I’ll be back soon, I promise. Don’t miss me, okay? Bye-bye, Stuart-vatti!”


	7. The Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few thoughts from the ensnared damsel in distress Astrid. Mira sneaks in.

Astrid stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling uncomfortable and miserable. She bit her bruised lip, wondering really how long it would take for her friends to retrieve her--and if they failed, how long she could remain here before losing her sanity. _I’m not a toy, She wanted to cry. It’s not fair._

  
A few hours had passed since a pair of teddy boys had entered her cell and force-fed her something she couldn’t identify, and then left, saying something along the lines of “checking the collection.” She had felt extremely delirious since, and had guessed that the pick was laced with some awful drug. If it was their intention to make her feel sick, then it worked tenfold.  
Her stomach churning, Astrid let a low whimper escape from her throat and writhed in agony--the stab wound in her side had barely even come close to healing, and was still oozing blood when she twisted. Her entire body was burning with the bruises, the cuts, the scrapes, the nips--it felt awful.

  
“I… I want to g-go home.” She cried aloud to herself quietly. “I want don’t being hurt… I want to be with Stuart. I-i want to care Mira-maus. I… I want… w…” She trailed off, feeling too weak to continue. Voicing her wishes made her feel a little better in spirits, but everything still ached outside. It had only been 24 hours, but 24 hours was long enough, she thought as a murky sleep began to engulf her. She wanted done with it. She wanted out of _hell_.

**

Mira waited silently and alone at her shelter besides the abandoned club underneath the moonlight. She was thankful that her territory was one of the least occupied of the Reeperbahn, so there were few people. She could watch mutely from her post for those gang members to arrive, holding back a yawn. _I should be asleep._ But she kept her eyes open, reminding herself: _For Astrid._

  
Thankfully, it wasn’t long before a pair of shadows slinked from the static darkness. Mira immediately saw them, and thought they seemed a bit tipsy. _They probably had a drink before coming this way._ They were laughing amongst themselves, and Mira realized they were talking about Astrid. She flared her nostrils, holding back anger, and listened closely. One of them wore a jagged choker.

  
“Oh, man, it was fuckin’ great.” The collared one laughed briskly. “We really made a good catch this time. The little whore was sobbing and squirming all the while I had my way with her, and she’d moan when I hit her. Good li’l thing. You should try her. Don’t hurry, though--she’s staying with us for sure, Those little Beatle people don’t got the time nor brains to get the ransom money in two weeks. Take your time.”

  
“You make it sound so great, Jag.” The other one, a man with green eyes and blonde hair, curled his lip. “Alright, then, I call dibs on next turn. There are already two others queued, right? If the rule is one fuck every 6 hours, then I’ll be there in 12. Who’s the other two?”

  
“Dagger, then Tooth. Then you, of course, Dragon.” Jag glanced up. The window was bare. “See? I did tell you it’d be empty. There’s no way those bastards would have any cash by tonight. Let’s go back.”

  
Mira hissed under her breath. _Nobody should be talking about Astrid-mutti like that. Why aren’t these idiots ashamed of themselves?_ She continued to lament silently when they turned away and started walking. She discreetly began to follow them out of the Reeperbahn and out onto the empty, gloomy streets. Her shoes were soft-soled, and she wasn’t wearing anything noisy like jewelry. That, and her small stature as a child, kept her hidden as they jumped roads and crossed alleys. There was a moment she nearly knocked a stack of cardboard boxes over, but was dismissed as a stray cat and ignored.

  
The journey, albeit long, was a smooth ride. The base was an old and small one-story asylum, abandoned like the club, located where Mira wanted to guess was just outside of Hamburg. Now, as Jag and Dragon stepped inside, Mira stayed at a distance and began to think. While on the way here she remained undetected, getting inside would be a different story. It wasn’t like she could stroll in and pretend to be a part of them--that was way out of bounds. Guessing from stories and pictures of asylums she had seen with clean hallways and rooms, it also seemed impractical for hiding, especially if it was an abandoned one.

  
She suddenly wanted to cry. _I’ve already gotten this far. How do I get further? I can’t see anything that could help. I’ve let everyone down!_ Feeling crestfallen, she used a nearby gnarly tree to climb onto the roof, hoping for a miracle. She eyed a box-like structure with a barred opening across the roof. A ventway! She lightly dashed over, wrenching the cover from the frame and looked down towards the deep opening. It wouldn’t fit a tall, grown person like John or Paul, but perhaps if one was scrawny and small enough, such as Stuart, they would have a chance at squeezing into the narrow tunnels. For Mira, a tiny girl, it served to be little of a problem. All she had to do was get down as quietly as possible.

  
 _I’m like a spy from an action novel!_ She smiled to herself as she climbed down, sliding cautiously until she reached the floor of the vent. She scooted forwards about 5 meters until the vent branched off in two directions: one way to the left and the other to the right. Stifling a cough from the dust, she pressed her ear against the metal floor and tried to hear for signs of activity. From the right path, she could sense voices laughing and shouting--it was the gang members. From the left, nothing. She was about to pull away and head right, towards the noise, but the echoes of a small, feminine sob from the left suddenly caught her attention. Seeking source, Mira crawled towards the left tunnel.

  
The vent, from there, seemed to be the length of the rest of the building, and she couldn’t see the end, but Mira estimated it to be 80 meters long. Every 10 meters the tunnel would branch off to the left shortly for 1 meter, ending at a barred frame like the one she used to climb in from outside. However, these gates led to rooms where she guessed patients used to be kept in, though most were empty now. Mira first counted 7 of these empty rooms, but was nearing the last one. She heard the sobs again, now much louder. Her heartpace quickened, and she urged herself to crawl faster. Eventually, she reached the last branch and pressed her face against the grid, peering down into the room. She couldn’t help but gasp at the sight.  
Astrid was sprawled out on a mattress and blanket, tied up and torn down, stripped of all her clothes and dignity, wearing only despair and bruises. She was asleep, it seemed, and yet she cried quietly to herself, laments spilling from her chapped lips. Hopeless. Worthless. Helpless.

  
Mira anxiously bit her lip. She wanted nothing more than to wrench the grid open and jump down into the room and hug her mutti and free her, but it was a very illogical option. If she jumped down, it would be extremely difficult to get back up to the vent. Astrid seemed far too weak to be able to follow her and walk the distance all the way back to Reeperbahn-- _especially not without her clothes._ Too risky. Mira held back painstakingly, and willed Astrid to survive until Stuart and his friends went to rescue her. _You’re strong. I know you can hold on._

  
It was a hassle turning around in the vent. There was barely enough room to crawl one way, and it wasn’t like there was a U-turn or roundabout that could send her back. She managed eventually, though, and starting scooting back towards the fork. Now she would head right and see to the other rooms.

  
By the time she reached the other end, her entire body ached from crawling so much. _For mutti,_ she constantly reminded herself whenever she felt exhausted. Now on this side, there was only one grid instead of 8 like the left. It vented one large room--something that could’ve been a kitchen or cafeteria beforehand though was now unidentifiable. Teddy boys were scattered across the place, drinking and eating and rough-housing and laughing, and Mira was taken aback by just how many of them there were. She estimated just a little under a hundred, and each one of them looked like a brute indeed. There were boys with scars, eyepatches, boys with occupied holsters at their belts and at least a dozen weilding brass knuckles.  
 _We’re bloody playing with fire here!_ Mira wanted to revolt. The Beatles were tough, she was sure of it, but this was too much. It was worse than everything she knew--every story she heard, every newspaper article, every radio report; none of it could some up the stench of pure savagery in the room.

  
Suddenly filled with despair, Mira turned around and starting crawling back to the roof vent. She would give her life if it meant Astrid’s safety, but this battle would surely end in vain. She felt nauseous climbing out of the tunnels, and she spent a few minutes lying on the roof to recover. There was no way in hell fighting would be a reasonable plan in the slightest. Perhaps stealth--sneaking Astrid out? That seemed nearly just as improbable, as that base was practically infested with gang members. They could never get her past that. Police ambush? She shook her head then too, remembering the threat made about contacting them, and she knew the police in Hamburg were just about as useful as a guitar with no strings anyway.

  
Planless, Mira used a tree to climb from the roof to the ground and began to dash back into the city. _Maybe if I tell the others about my findings, they’ll have a plan!_ Mira thought as she entered the Reeperbahn once more, pulling the trenchcoat over herself when she reached the Top Ten. She knew now the tiny asylum was the base for the gang, and it had eight patient rooms to the left side, and one large room to the right, and a hallway most likely down the middle, and that Astrid was kept in the furthermost patient room. There were about a hundred gang members waiting for them--it would be dangerous. _But hell is dangerous,_ she grinned sickly as she positioned herself in the corner and waited for the bands to complete their final act of the night.


	8. The Informative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mira goes back to the band and tells them what they saw.

“Mira! Yer’ back!” George noticed her after the gig, standing in the corner near the side of the stage. “Thank God! Quick, come backstage…” He quickly strung his guitar around his back and ushered her into the dressing area.

  
“Mira!” Klaus entered afterwards and whispered, relieved. “You are not hurted!”

  
“What’s the story, kid?” John hurried over to her. “How’s Astrid? You saw her, right?”

  
“Stuart told me everythin’ after ya left!” Pete exclaimed. “Yer’ only twelve, huh? And you went to find her! Tell us!”

  
“U-um, wait…” Mira mumbled, feeling dizzy. She placed her hand on the edge of a table to steady yourself. “I-i’m sorry… I haven’t slept. I realized I was tired while I was running back here, but…” She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “An asylum… An abandoned asylum outside of the city. Yeah, the lunatics are keeping Astrid-mutti there. I crawled through the venting system and I saw her. Tied up in one of the patient rooms, and… I think… they might be…” She coughed. “... _assaulting_ her. She looked pretty bruised and beat up, like they had been abusing her. I’m sorry. Where’s…” She looked around sleepily. “Where’s Stuart-vatti? Are we gonna save Astrid?”

  
Nobody answered her. Jürgen was deep in thought with Klaus, and the Beatles only stared back in shock.

  
“Stu…” Paul finally responded slowly. “Stu’s asleep in ‘is dressing room. He was feelin’ pretty ill after the incident and didn’t want t’ play with us, s-so we patched ‘im up a bit and let ‘im rest. He’ll wake up if we tell ‘im yer’ back, so...”

  
“I can’t believe ye let ‘im get away with that,” John raised an eyebrow.

  
“His fiancée just got kidnapped by the most dangerous band in Europe.” The guitarist pointed out. “I think ‘e deserves some peace!”

  
“I’ll get ‘im so we can tell ‘im the bits.” Pete got up and hurried into the back hall.

  
“An’ I think after this, ye oughtta go for a kip, too.” John affectionately patted Mira on the shoulder. “Look at all th’ trouble you’ve gotten into in just one night! Not a lot of twelve-year-olds get involved with Reeperbahn bands or nasty gangs. What a story you’ll have got to tell once we’re clear of this shitstorm!”

  
Mira yawned again and smiled. “What an adventure. I hope it’s not a long one, though. I just really want my mutti safe.”

  
Pete reappeared from the hall. On his arm was Stuart with a bandage over his bruised eye, limping towards the group with the posture of a wilted tulip. He looked terribly unkept, with uncombed hair like weeds and dark roses beneath his visible eye. His garden of freckles was only paler than ever.

  
“Stuart-vatti!” Mira shouted, suddenly full of energy. Delightfully, she ran over to him and trapped him in a tight hug, nearly causing him to fall over.

  
“Mira,” He murmured gently and patted her head, seeming exhausted like her. “I’m… I’m glad you made it back okay. What did you see? Is Astrid okay?”

  
Quickly, the little girl stepped back and explained everything she discovered, from the asylum to the dozens of teddy boys to Astrid and her confinement in a musky patient room. Stuart seemed to tense when she regarded their violence towards her—”No way to treat an angel,” Mira added.

  
“Asylum…” Jürgen squinted and sounded it out slowly; Mira realized he didn’t know what it meant. “A… sy… lum. Ja, I thinks I knows. Outside from Hamburg? It is there also before the war, but it workers leave when war happened. Nobody comed back and nobody there now.”

  
“Well, let’s drive those lunatics out and keep it that way!” John snarled, clenching his fists.

  
“Did you even hear me?!” Mira stared incredulously at him with a tired but scorching gaze. “There’s, like, a hundred of those guys! They’ve got guns and batons and brass knuckles! I’m not trying to insult your ability to fight, even. You look very dangerous to me. But know when to pick a fight! Goodness!”

  
“Ugh…” John slumped down into a chair and pulled his arm over his face. “Why can’t every problem just be solved by punching someone in the face? Life would be so much easier.”

  
“Imagine all the black eyes.” Pete bit sarcastically. “And I’m sure all the runts would get beat on even more. Like Stu—”

  
“I’d come back home…” Stuart joked weakly and pointed to his own face. “‘Hey, fellas, look at what the teds gave me today. This bruise from a guy who couldn’t pay his rent, another whose girlfriend was about to leave him, and this one from a shopkeeper with a failing business!’”

  
“Punching someone in the face won’t bring me dead mum back from the grave.” Paul mumbled.

  
“Ouch.” George commented flatly.

  
“Touchy subject, Macca.” John hissed painfully. “Anyway, off the subject of punching people in the face, how exactly do these new bits help us save Astrid? We obviously can’t walk in and start beating them. That’s all I can think of right now.”

  
“Seriously? Is that the only thing you can think of?” George rolled his eyes. “No just sneaking in to save Astrid or anything safer like that?”

  
“Doesn’t that idea have its own faults?” Pete frowned. “Sure, we won’t have to fight first, but then they’ll see Astrid is missing and come for us.”

  
“So then,” Paul mused. “We need a plan that doesn’t involve head-on scuffles, but we need to make it apparent to them that Astrid does not belong to them and they can’t take her back.”

  
“Fair enough.” John growled. “Call us back when you find out how.”

  
“This is hopeless!” Stuart wailed, and it was then it seemed his slender legs gave in under his own little weight and he collapsed to his knees with trembling fingers yanking on his matted hair. “We’ll never save Astrid! I’m so sorry! We’re just too _weak_!”

  
“No, no, Stu,” Paul kneeled next to the ailing artist and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright. We’ll save Astrid, and that’s a promise on my part. Hey, don’t cry… you look pathetic enough already. Stuart...” Suddenly, the tiny Sutcliffe’s face was buried in the guitarist’s broad chest, his entire strikingly feminine body shaking violently of “I’m sorry”s and “Forgive me”s. Paul tensed, feeling absolutely strange of having this one person—the runt of the litter whom he hated the guts of—tightly hugging and crying on him like the closest of friends. _Astrid’s kidnapping is changing so much about us,_ he thought sadly, and hesitantly began to rub Stuart’s back to comfort him. From behind his shoulder, John was suppressing a laugh, and Paul had to shoot him a death glare.

  
“... Well, this aside,” George coughed awkwardly. “Maybe Mira has an idea?” He suggested, trying to keep an optimistic tone.  
“She sleep a minute before.” Klaus shook his head. The little girl was cradled in his arms, utterly knocked out from exhaustion. “She said was tired, remember?”

  
“We oughtta give her a few pills so she can keep up,” John grumbled.

  
“Uh? John, she’s _twelve_.” Pete reminded him, alarmed. “She’d probably have a heart attack from taking two. Imagine!”

  
“Twelve-year-olds aren’t any fun.” The auburnet replied with grisly ignorance. “I was joking anyway.”

  
“Do we send her back to her little home outside?” George raised his hand. “I mean, she _sleeps_ there, right?”

  
“I think she should stick with us for now.” Paul sighed, concluding to himself that the next time Stuart cried, he’d force John to comfort him. “We’ll keep her in one of our rooms. It’s best if she’s somewhere we can watch over her easily and take care of her.”

  
“It’s cold outside,” Jürgen added. “This club is dirty, ja, but is warm, and she is easy keep here.”

  
“Yeah, and also make sure she doesn’t lose her book.” Pete smiled.

  
John raised an eyebrow. “What book?”

  
“This one,” The drummer held up a bare-covered book up in his hands. “It has her name on it. I think it’s a sketchbook. She brought it with her the first time we took her here yesterday.”

  
“... Interesting.” John turned away, not interested in the least. Stuart, on the contrary, seemed to perk at the mention of a sketchbook, and finally pulled away from Paul, who is more than happy to let go of him, to look at it. He blinked slowly, as if unsure of how to react.

  
“... I’ll h-hold onto it for her.” He said at last, holding out a quivering palm to take the book from Pete. Instinctively, the artisan pulled it to his chest and hugged it protectively.

  
“Good idea,” George grinned. “Stu protects artsy things with his life!”

  
“Alright. Whatever.” John glanced at Mira. “Just keep her in the back where nobody else will find her. We’re in enough trouble already.”

  
Paul narrowed his eyes. “If havin’ our bassist’s precious fiancée being held ransom by a murderous gang at the stake of her and/or all our lives, including a little girl’s, could be summed up with a petty word like _trouble_ , then sure. We’re in trouble alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cynthia and Ringo will be introduced soon—hopefully in the next chapter. Be expectant.


End file.
